EPISODE 27 — THE ESCAPE ROUTE
479 Words
The guard tugged my arm urgently. “Ms. Williams—we must go.”
“No!” I cried. “I won’t leave him alone!”
“You have to,” the guard insisted. “If they get you, he’s finished.”
The words hit me so hard my body stopped resisting. I allowed myself to be dragged through another narrow door into a dim emergency corridor.
Behind us, I heard shouting. Furniture crashing. A violent struggle.
Terror clawed through me.
“Please,” I begged the guard. “He needs help!”
“He needs you safe,” the guard responded breathlessly as we reached a locked door. He entered a code and pushed me through. “Go to the car. Don’t stop for anything.”
A second explosion of noise echoed from the main house—something heavy slamming against a wall.
My heart squeezed painfully. “What if he’s hurt? What if—”
“Ms. Williams.”
The guard looked at me firmly.
“He will kill for you. But he also needs to live for you. Move.”
The door slammed shut between us.
I staggered into the empty space behind the safe house.
Wind whipped my face. The forest loomed around me—dark, wild, threatening.
The guard’s voice echoed faintly from the other side of the door:
“Run!”
I sprinted toward the backup vehicle hidden near the tree line. My breaths came in harsh gasps. Every shadow felt alive. Every branch felt like hands reaching for me.
When I reached the car, I yanked the door—but it wouldn’t open.
Locked.
“No, no, no—”
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Behind me.
My blood froze.
I turned slowly—
A second masked man stood there.
Not the intruder from before.
Another one.
He tilted his head, voice calm and chilling.
“Going somewhere?”
I stumbled back. “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know me.” His eyes gleamed behind the mask. “But I know you.”
I shook violently. “Why do you want me?!”
He took a step forward. “Because hurting you hurts him.”
Tears stung my eyes. “Please—”
“No. No pleading.” He raised a hand.
My breath caught.
But before he could reach me—
Someone tackled him from the side.
Hard.
The masked man flew onto the ground.
The person who hit him landed on top—
“Oliver!” I gasped.
His hair was disheveled, his face smeared with blood—but his eyes burned with terrifying focus.
“Get behind me!” he yelled.
I scrambled back as the masked man rose, knife glinting.
Oliver stepped in front of me, shield-like.
“You won’t touch her,” he growled.
The masked man lunged.
Oliver met him head-on.
- Writer
